


how to win at sibling rivalry

by monsterbate



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Breakfast Cake, Developing Relationship, Episode: s03e09 The Affair, Episode: s04e01 Dead Guy in Room 4, Episode: s04e07 The Barbecue, Episode: s04e12 Singles Week, Gen, Idiots in Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Rose family growth, Siblings, Talking about emotions is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterbate/pseuds/monsterbate
Summary: “You were wrong,” David says into the dark once the lights are out and Alexis’s breathing has dropped into the snuffling sound she will never admit is basically snoring.Sometimes David has feelings, and sometimes Alexis talks to him about them.(A series of conversations between siblings.)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 42
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Are there too many italics in these things? _Absolutely._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set after Season 3's 'The Affair'.)

“You were wrong,” David says into the dark once the lights are out and Alexis’s breathing has dropped into the snuffling sound she will never admit is basically snoring. He is trying to figure out how to feel about _investment offers_ and is remembering how his stomach had dropped while hearing nice things about his store because he’d realized that Patrick _was_ interested— _in the store_. 

“What was I wrong about, David?” she says after a moment, her voice sleepy but somehow still obnoxious.

He rolls to face her even though he can’t see her with the lights out, adjusting his duvet very carefully over his shoulder. As if being precise about this will somehow correct all the uncertainty and messiness that seems to follow everything else he’s involved in. As if it will correct the minor awareness he seems to have developed for a business major who tucks in his button-down, off-the-rack shirts. As if it will correct any of the vortex of _things_ he keeps feeling over and over. 

The silence tells him that Alexis is still waiting for his answer. Why she can be a decent sister only when no one is looking is—not out of the realm of something he understands. 

“It was the store.”

She makes a sound like a question mark. 

“He was interested in the store, Alexis. Not you; not me. Just—the store.”

Her answer is the vocal equivalent of an eye roll. He’d like to throw his pillow at her but it might touch the floor and he doesn’t want to have to retrieve it later. So he rolls onto his back and glares at the black ceiling. He’ll get over this, like he got over Jake and that guy from Milan and Kiera Knightley. It’s not like it’s _real_ , anyways. 

“David?” she says. “The thing is, though, like, you _are_ the store? It’s not like your whole _thing_ is separate from the store. _Thing_. So I’m probably _not_ wrong, and you _are_ getting vibes.”

“Are you saying that the store is just, what, like some kind of placeholder?”

“No, David, _duh_ ; I’m saying the store is like an extension of who you are. Your whole vision, aesthetic— _thing_. And if he’s into the _store_ , it’s not impossible that he could be into you, too.”

And he would never admit it in a million thousand years because it’s a little too much like feelings, ew, but David Rose finds himself smiling into the darkness of a hotel room in Schitt’s Creek like an idiot who is _emotional_ and it’s disgusting. This entire chain reaction is a disaster and he hates it. 

“Entrepreneurs shouldn’t get _vibes_ from their business partners,” David says instead. “It’s unprofessional.”

“A scandal would get your word of mouth equity up,” she murmurs in response, clearly no longer interested in the conversation. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Go to sleep, David. Dream about your cutey-pie business partner or something.”

“Ew,” he says, trying to make it sound natural around the smile that he can’t seem to stop. So disgusting. “Good night, Alexis. I’m sorry it’s hard being so wrong about this.”

She hmms, and then it is quiet. David tries to relax his facial muscles but can’t seem to let go of the stupid grin that is all over his face. It’s very annoying and will probably result in wrinkles, but maybe _he is the store_ , so instead he thinks about font choices and vendor agreements and stationery and Important Business Stuff. 

(If he wakes up smiling, that’s no one’s business but his own thank you very much.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set after Season 4's 'Dead Guy in Room 4'.)

Three weeks later, over the remains of a ‘Happy Day’ cake, Alexis puts the triumphant final touch to her lip gloss and stands, looming over him like an over-bronzed ibis.

“I would like an apology,” she says, “For the accusations of wrongness you made which were clearly in error and also very rude.”

David is trying to decide if cake for breakfast for the third day in a row is acceptable. He thinks Patrick wouldn’t approve, which is something he can care about now. It’s... nice. “I’m sorry you were wrong about being wrong,” he offers, not entirely certain he knows what she’s talking about and _absolutely_ certain he doesn’t care. 

“Dav _id_ ,” she whines, hands on her hips. “I’m talking about Patrick! You kissed him! He’s still working at the store! When I said there were vibes, I was _right._ ”

He can feel his smile starting again which is the most horrifying thing in the world. Hiding it behind cake seems like a solid decision, so he busies himself with cutting a piece and doesn’t look at his sister. 

“ _Argh_ ,” she half-screams when he doesn’t reply. “You’re the worst. Just admit I was right and he was totally into you the whole time.”

It’s a thing he’s trying not to hyper focus on: maybe Patrick _was_ into him, the whole time. Maybe it all did mean something. Which is...a lot. And embarrassing, obviously, and kind of makes him want to die. Just a little bit when he isn’t, you know, reliving every interaction Pre-Kiss over and over and trying to figure out if they could have gotten to the kissing just a little bit faster.

“I don’t know, Alexis: you graduated from high school, finally. Somehow. Figure it out.”

“That’s the _point_ , David: I did figure it out. _Weeks ago_. You just wouldn’t listen because you’re emotionally immature or whatever.”

“Excuse _you_? I’m emotionally immature? Who is pining after her ex-boss like some kind of silly love-struck—”

“David! We’re not talking about— _that_ , we’re talking about you and your little _affair_ with your business partner—”

“ _Affair_?” David says, and he is appalled to discover that his voice has hit a register that probably only young dogs and bats can hear. He makes sure to gape at Alexis for her absurd accusations so that she can understand the complete ridiculousness of what she is saying.

“Yes, _affair_ , with all the kissing, and the touching, and the—”

“Oh my _god_. Stop. Stop it _right now_.”

Alexis cocks her head to the side, expression softening in a way that he had never seen before they landed in Schitt’s Creek. Maybe it’s something in the water, he thinks wildly, as she loops a strand of hair around her finger and wrinkles her nose at him.

“He _likes you_ likes you. And I think it’s good for you. He’s… _nice_.” And it’s like that word encapsulates a whole universe that David has only heard about secondhand, which makes him immediately want to put like three hundred miles _at least_ between him and his sister’s— _feelings_. So gross.

Ugh, he can’t believe Alexis’s grade-school taunts are making him blush like some untouched Victorian maiden withering away of, like, consumption in the front parlor. But thinking about Patrick makes him feel all frizzly and electric and excited because Patrick _does_ like him, and he likes Patrick and it’s nice and new and yes, okay, he’s blushing. Whatever.

“Is there—anything else you wanted to say?” he asks instead, after a sufficient amount of time had passed to make the whole thing awkward. 

“Yes. Because of the _instrumental_ role I played in your getting together with Patrick, I will be the flower girl at your wedding. Flower woman, actually, and I will be wearing—”

“No. Never. This conversation is over, and has officially? _Never happened_.” He stands and tries to herd her towards the door, hoping for enough peace and quiet to at least finish his cake-breakfast before Dad starts in about ants. Again.

Alexis pauses at the door, fiddling with her phone until David has sat back down and just taken a bite of cake. “Fine, in that case I will be First Mourner when he dumps you. I have the _perfect_ hat for it.”

She slams the door over David’s frustrated “What the f—?” 

He eats another piece (or two) of cake and if he picks up tea on the way into the store it’s most definitely not because it’s _nice_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set after Season 4's 'The Barbeque'.)

David’s face feels like an overfilled beach ball. He needs his mother’s chilled eyemask but the thought of getting out of bed is about as appealing as swimming in wasps. He hates this. He hates hurting and crying and—and _feeling_.

“David?” Alexis’s voice cuts through the dark stillness of the room. 

He doesn’t answer. It would take too much energy that he doesn’t have to spare from his wallowing. 

“David. I know you’re awake; I can hear you sniffling over there.” 

“Oh, my god. What.” He can feel his face twisting into a knot, which means his serum isn’t going to dry evenly. _Thanks, Alexis_.

“Do you—need to talk? About Patrick?”

He turns his head on his pillow to see Alexis’s face lit by the glow from her cellphone. She is biting her lip, which tells him she’s actively concerned or something. 

“It’s just, like, this morning you said—you’d thought you were done with dating apps? Which is—David, that’s _a lot_.”

He has a vague recollection of saying something...like that, maybe, perhaps, through the miasma of—emotional destruction he’s currently in the middle of, but. It’s not like he. Actually. _Feels_ like that, right? 

Oh god, he totally feels like that. 

And it makes everything so much _worse_ because now everything is screwed up. His boyfriend revealed a secret fiancé and David had asked for space and did he really want space? Of course he didn’t want _space_ , he wanted— 

“You should go to him,” Alexis says in the voice she uses when she thinks she’s being wise. 

“Don’t you _dare_ rom-com quote me right now.”

Alexis puts down her phone, which makes something in David flatten out because it means she’s listening and that means he’s not out on this limb alone. Which is great. Family bonding over emotional incompetence, _yay_.

“I’m not! I’m just saying that you shouldn’t let one teeny-weeny fiancé destroy whatever cute love story you’re making with him, you know?”

David exhales, empties himself out, pushes through the full-body ache, and lets himself think.

He thinks about Patrick and the way he’s become a habit—a good habit, a solid habit. Not in like an unhealthy stalker way, but in a comfortable familiar way, because…because Patrick was just so—he was _it_. He listened, and he cared, and he pushed David to do better and be better and it was all just— 

_A lot_ , like Alexis said. A standing-on-the-edge-of-a-cliff lot. A scary, exciting, boiling-over lot.

“I think it’s better,” she says after a moment, and David can hear a whole echoing chamber of feeling in her voice, “when you don’t leave room for regrets.”

Oh. And there it is: David would regret it for the rest of his life if _this_ is how it ends.

“What am I going to do?” he asks. 

She is quiet for a long, long time. “Honestly, David? I have no idea. But doing nothing is maybe … not it?”

David considers this, and tries not to let the sheer magnitude of doing _something_ overwhelm him. It feels like too much, right now, on the tail end of this emotional turmoil; he's exhausted and apparently considering his future with a man he met in Ray Butani's living room. He needs like a hot five, minimum, to _process_ , okay. 

“Well, thank you. I guess. For asking. And for listening, too, I guess.”

“Oh my god, you’re _so_ welcome,” she replies, and it’s a sign of what Schitt’s Creek has done to him that he doesn’t bother to point out how fake she sounds. Because when she picks up her phone, the harsh blue light of it shows him just how hard she is trying.

He knows the feeling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set after Season 4's 'Singles Week'.)

“I told Patrick I loved him,” David says conversationally while Alexis is trying to paint her nails. “And I’m pretty sure I had dog-biscuit breath when I did it.”

He can see her hands fly wide in his peripherals. “Oh my god, David! _Ew_. Use a mint.”

“It’s _Ted’s_ fault, technically,” he offers. He flips a page in his magazine and intentionally doesn’t look up. 

“How is your dog breath my _boyfriend’s_ fault?” There’s a lot to unpack in the emphasis there, so David...doesn’t. It’s easier to just be—happy, apparently. It’s new, for him.

“Mmkay, why are we focusing on that particular part of my story?”

“Whatever; you’ve been in love with Patrick for, like, _forever_ : it’s not news. You having _dog breath_ , however—”

“I did _not_ have _dog breath_ ; I had dog- _biscuit_ breath and if you can’t even tell the difference maybe you shouldn’t be dating a _vet_ —”

“Excuse you, David. Dogs _eat_ the biscuits which means they would clearly have the _same breath_.”

“...that’s not even the point. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. That Patrick and I are, like, taking important steps in our relationship.”

“Oh, well, you’re so welcome,” Alexis coos, examining her cuticles. She’s basically glowing and it’s gross.

“Why on _earth_ would I be thanking you right now?” 

“Because I _inspired_ you or whatever? Would you even be telling me this story right now if I _hadn’t_ gone and confessed _my_ love for Ted like an empowered independent woman?”

The thought is almost terrifying in its logic. Did Patrick really only say he loved him because—because of _Alexis_? Is this entire emotional journey David’s been on like founded on the ridiculous rain-soaked confession _his sister_ made to her _ex-fiance_ in the back office of his _vet clinic_ while he was _actively dating_ another woman? 

“Oh, my god, David: are you freaking out right now?” 

“...no?” 

“David, _woof_ , you need to chill. _Obviously_ you love Patrick and just because it took you a little bit of time to, like, _come to terms_ with your feelings doesn’t mean it isn’t real or whatever.”

“Okay, but it’s just that, _technically_ , Patrick said it for the first time yesterday, too?”

Alexis pauses but then waves a hand like she is escaping the scalpers at Coachella. “So?”

“So did my boyfriend tell me he loves me for the first time because of _you_?”

“So kind, David. And of _course_ not. Patrick has been in love with you since he sang you that strummy little song. Probably even before that. He’s, like, gooey for you. He’s such a tiny little love muffin.”

“Okay, _ew_ : we’re not doing _muffin_.” But her words curl through him like molasses, warm and slow and he wants to stand up and pace to escape the nervous energy thrumming in his skin. Because he wants it to be true. He needs it to be true.

“But he is, David. Such a sweet, tiny, crumbly, little—”

“Oh my god, _stop_.”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “So what’s the _problem_ , exactly?”

“Why now? Why yesterday? Why not—why not _then_ , unless he wasn’t—?”

“Yikes, David. Like, really, though: what would you have done if he’d said he loved you only two months or whatever into dating you? Like if he sang you that cute little song and then _announced it_ into the mic like an over-emotional DJ?”

David opens his mouth and then closes it when he realizes that he would have— 

“You’d have _freaked_ , David. You wouldn’t have been ready to hear that from him. In fact, I would bet that you weren’t even ready to hear it when Patrick _did_ say it to you yesterday.”

The world goes fuzzy for a moment, as if the bounds of what David knows to be true have shifted to take into account the fact that his little sister can apparently read him for filth in the middle of a motel room at two in the afternoon without even breaking eye contact. She doesn’t look proud of it, necessarily, just serious and careful—like she’s preparing to send his fragile emotional state across international borders without any extra packing materials.

“That’s not—” he tries weakly, and Alexis tips her chin back towards her wet nails. “I don’t—”

“You would have been back at that little farm churning sad butter and we both know it. So just...think about the fact that he loved you enough to, like, _wait_ to say it until you were ready to hear it.”

He’s going to cry, probably, which is literally a nightmare scenario. There’s a whole knot of feelings caught in his throat and only some of them are about how much he apparently likes his sister and her strange advice and the fact that she’s here, caring right back. 

Alexis pauses in finishing her left hand and glances up at him, expression sharp. All the warm feelings immediately evaporate. 

“Oh, and P.S., David? Saying ‘I love you’ to Mariah doesn’t even count. It only counts if there’s a chance for someone to say it back.” 

“Thanks for ruining _that_ moment,” he snaps. 

She blows him a kiss and he thinks, _Yeah, you, too._


End file.
